


Intoxicated

by forestydeku



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed George, Domestic Fluff, Drug Addiction, Fluff, George is numb and Dream wants to change that, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Graphic Violence, Recreational Drug Use, START ON CHAPTER FOUR IF YOU CAME FOR RECOVERY AND NOT AS INTENSE ANGST, Sexual Tension, Sloppy Makeouts, THE END OF CHAPTER 3 IS WHERE THE SUMMARY PART HAPPENS, Tension, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, boys going through a crisis, dream has a diary, dream is an angel, i can’t tag so sorry about this mess, ik it seems like super angsty but its more psychological, its actually gonna be pretty soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestydeku/pseuds/forestydeku
Summary: George wasn't sure how he managed to get such a following, fans showering him with love left and right. Yet no matter how much love he received, he still felt numb. The George people knew with a peppy attitude during the streams and videos was really fighting his hardest battle behind the screen.-"George, please.. get a hold of yourself." Dream says exasperatedly. He couldn't hold the coughs from climbing out of his throat, eyes watering from his stinging throat and fog in his eyes."Dream..? What areyoudoing in England..?" His words were a bit slurred, eyes a fiery red squinting to see through the clouds of weed and more. A loopy grin fits across his face, bitter in a way, "Who would've thought the first time I see your face is like this", he harshly cackles out."Why do you think I'm here George? Why do you think I went  to fly to you? Its because of this. Yourkillingyourself.""Killing myself? I would be worried if the drugs weren't doing what I got them for."-In which George can't find the reason to try, and Dream tries to show him every one of them.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 90
Kudos: 314





	1. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immature mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it’s nice to meet you all who decide to read this! the plot I had originally was nothing like this, and then I heard the song intoxicated by 03 greedo + comfortable by laud and I was like yeah, this is perfect. it’s my first fic so if you have any constructive criticism, give it to me lightly.. i’m embarrassed easily.
> 
> I don’t mind if you promote this fic, but please refrain from sending or mentioning it to any CC’s mentioned. I know they said they were okay with being shipped, I just don’t wanna make them feel uncomfortable just in case. If they find out about it on their own somehow then that’s up to them at that point. (unlikely they'll ever see this but-)
> 
> ALSO! the first chapter is mostly gonna be past tense, cause I'm just showing George's back story, the upcoming chapters will be a bit different since its present tense and what you read will be happening as you read it.

George had no clue what he was doing, let alone if he was doing it right.

He had been coughing up a storm, tears filled his eyes, a burning sensation in his throat and lungs. Panic clogged his mind, scared he messed it up, scared that he already managed to kill himself from a single hit from.. what was it called? A blunt? A joint? Just weed? Was it even weed? Seeing it now, the newspapers headlines saying ' _Highschool senior overdosing from illegal drugs.._ ', a _tch_ left his lips without realizing.

He just took what was handed to him, being told that it would solve all his problems. Fill the void in his heart he was oh so craving to fill. What caused the void? He didn't know, well? He might have. He was gay, he was _so_ gay. His first time with a girl did _not_ go as planned. All because he couldn't get it up.

...

__

_"So good.. huh? Babe?" The girl looked at him with a confused face, looking down at his crotch. Her face was flushed from foreplay, confused on how everything that happened didn't make him hard._

__

_"Should I help you.. get it up?" She was pretty, he'll admit. Long blond hair, fairly average body, he couldn't remember her eye color (that was probably a sign it wasn't gonna work). She was your basic pretty blonde princess. But it wasn't **right**. Why did he want to be in her place? With a guy above him.. **why**?_

__

_He nervously shook his head, but she leant up anyways to grab his shoulder and pull him down against her. She grabbed his hand and led it to her chest, looking at him with her best seductive eyes. He didn't find it attractive whatsoever._

__

_George stared down at her, his legs and an arm caging her. She was topless, still wearing her uniform skirt. Attempting to grind against him, she lifted her hips up trying to make him get the hint._

__

_George felt like puking. All he had to do, was hold her, enjoy it, and continue their relationship. Who knows, he could start a normal life with her, high school sweetheart to husband and wife._

__

_But he felt it in his gut, how **wrong** this was._

__

_"I-I'm sorry.." He stuttered out, pulling his pants back on and tightening his belt. Looking back at her one last time, he saw the girl sat down on the bed now. She covered herself in a blanket looking at him. Her eyes had a hint of confusion and anger. Insecurity oozed out her, not at all able to hide it. He knew she was overthinking it. But he can't say it, he can't say why he can't get it up, he himself doesn't know why he wanted to be in her place._

__

_She opened her mouth to speak but George was already sprinting out the door. He cringed at the way girls door slams when he shut it on his way out. When he managed to get to the apartments stairs he hears a girl yell shriek out a "What the hell?!"_

__

_'Sorry what's your name, kinda going through a crisis at the moment.'_

...

He cringed at the memory, embarrasment coursing through his veins. What if she tells everyone that he's impotent? Would everyone at school make fun of him for it? What if they said.. that he was gay? He shivered at the thought. He didn't even know himself if he's gay. Imaging walking into a school that knew you were gay before you did? A school full of homophobes?

He squeezed his eyes shut and tries to distract himself, right! How he willingly took _free_ drugs from a random guy he passed on the way out of his failed hook up attempt. He knew drugs were pretty pricey, so he had no clue why the guy willingly gave him some. Was he gonna use him for 'favors' later on?

George stared back down at the so called joint. What if it wasn't meant to be smoked? What if they gave him something meant to be eaten, and just wrapped it weird? His head was clogged with thoughts from him overthinking, weirdly feeling his body feel more.. relaxed? 

He took one more deep breath, shutting his eyes tight when he brought whatever the hell he was smoking back to his lips, he would just call it a joint for now. He inhaled again, eyes watering from him holding back another fit of coughs. Managing to exhale it, he let out a shaky laugh. "I did it, I did it, I'm not dead!" he laughs out as he felt his body go more flaccid.

' _You still might_ ' a voice in his head suddenly said, ' _you still don't know what you just took_ ' another one whispered. The voices are right though, he _doesnt_ know what he just took. He felt it, the fear that coursed through his veins, shortened breaths leaving and entering him way to quickly. He was hyperventilating, leading himself into a panic attack.

If he died here, how long would it take his parents to find him? 

He was hiding in an abandoned parks restroom, sat on the toilet that he attempted to wipe off with his schools homework, knowing it wouldn't be turned in regardless. The stall walls were covered in graffiti and dirt, a random hole in the middle of the stall. ' _Maybe not so random_ ' he thought, shivering when he found out that it was probably an infamous _glory hole_.

Now though, the graffiti didn't seem so random and inappropriate. Possibly because he was collapsed on the floor hyperventilating, but the words started to blend together and drip down the walls surrounding him.

The hole in the stall was the scariest part of his trip, because when he looked at it, rather than looking through, he looked directly at a bloody eye. A shriek left his lips as he pressed himself against the opposite wall, moldy and chipping. Before he knew it, he was out like a light.

When he woke up only an hour had passed, causing a breath of relief to leave his throat. He wasn't dead, only an hour had gone by, and he still felt a little loopy. He stared down at the joint, seeing that the entire thing didn't just turn into burnt ashes. Was it supposed to? He didn't know. All he did know was that he was gonna go home, and _never_ touch one of those suicide sticks again .

At least, thats what he thought.  
__

He was an adult now, out in the real world, and still stuck in front of his computer

He had a life now, tons of friends, hundreds of thousands of fans. Yet he still felt so, _empty_. His void was never filled. No matter what he did. And he had done exactly what he said he wouldn't, 

drugs.

When Dream got popular, a sick feeling entered George's chest. Why was he the most popular now? Didn't he work just as hard? Wasn't he just as funny and bright? His head couldn't handle all these thoughts, it made him sick to his stomach, stress being the only thing he could feel.

So he gave in, found some local dealers he heard about from some neighbors and asked if they had anything that would make him stop overthinking. Just stop feeling whatsoever. So he started off easy, edibles, weed, dabs (they were NOT easy), whatever they gave he took.

And _god_ it felt good. He felt free, he wasn't stressed anymore, and it wasn't like he was addicted either. ' _Apparently they were wrong about being addicted._ ' was all he though of it.

Though he did have to keep up his GeorgeNotFound attitude, and the only reason he was able to, was because of Dream. They had a love/hate relationship, Dream only aware of the love side. George was jealous, jealous of Dreams overbearing success. Though he knew that regardless of how hard they both worked, he earned each and every fan he had. He loved the man too, always managing to bring a stupid dorky smile to everyones face. Including George's.

Dream was like his own personal drug, he didn't have to pay for it, prepare himself, because Dream was _always_ there for him. Goodnight calls every night, even pulling all nighters together. He felt like a kid again, something he took for granted. It was like he was George's second chance.

He might even love him a little more than just a normal friendship, and he had a feeling Dream felt the same. He could feel the emotions in every word said to him, every time they jokingly flirted while streaming or recording butterflies filled his chest. 

God, Dream really knew how to rile him up. Though no matter how he felt around him, the void was still aching to be filled. Not even Dream was able to fill it, neither the drugs. Though having both was a good enough distraction for him.

So he would get high before some streams, letting the drugs cloud his mind and give him loose lips. Saying stupid things that he would forget about in the morning. There was one conversation though, one he couldn't forget, even if he wanted to. It was supposed to be a normal call, but suddenly Dreams breaths quickened, and his sentences shortened.

"Whats up Dream, something wrong?" George asks, confused on Dreams sudden switch it personality. He stares down at his phone, seeing the time they've been on a call go up.

He stays silent just to listen to Dreams heavy breathing, not calming whatsoever. Was he having an allergic reacting? Panic attack? Being attacked by someone choking them? 

"Fuck.. I can hear your thinking through the phone." Dream breaths out, George's red flushing red. How can he tell George was thinking so hard? ' _I could've just been muted or something.._ ' he thinks.

He could hear a rustling on the other end of the line, the sound of blankets being thrown about. His head suddenly blank when he noticed how _attractively_ he said fuck.

"Did something happen? Are you okay?" Sure, Dream cursed plenty during their calls. But never like this, never so.. sexually.

"You happened, what did you think would happen when you sent me.. that." George never understood the phrase, ' _the tension was so thick, it could be cut with a knife_ ' though now. Now he could understand.

All George remembers sending was a dumb photo of a cat on the street that reminded him of Dreams cat, whats so bad about that? He nervously unlocked his phone, hesitating over his contact before finally opening their messages. The photo he sent, he _definitely_ didn't remember sending. In fact, he didn't even remember taking it. 

He was shirtless, which was bad enough. 

Shirtless, wearing gray sweatpants, and sweating up a storm. He was sat on the floor in front of his mirror, holding himself up with one hand while leaning back, legs spread. ' _I was definitely high_ ', was the first thing he thought, he would never willingly send that sober. He knew that he should tell Dream it was an accident and to forget about it, delete the photo and hang up the call.

That's what he should've done.

Instead, he let a shaky breath out, eyes traveling his room for anything he could take to get rid of his nerves. His eyes settled on a stale cookie edible, thinking it was better than nothing before chewing and swallowing it as fast as possible. He could feel himself start to get sweaty, palms now clamy and wet. Barely holding up his phone without it slipping right back out.

He finally responded, "What? You didn't like it?" holding his breath with his hands in a fist.

"Don't like it? Baby, I didn't just fucking like it." George let out a gasp, holding in a girly whimper. ' _I'm a man_ ' he thought. ' _I'm not just gonna fall onto my knees for him over the nickname baby_ '.

"Mm, I would hope so. I looked good in it right? Only wanted an opinion.." He teased, not wanting to seem easy, not letting the conversation go how Dream wanted it to go.

"Well my opinion is that you shouldn't send that to anyone else," theres a pause before he continues as if he's preparing for consequences from his words " _or you'll have them hot and bothered wanting to leave bruises all over your pretty white skin."_

__

Another gasp leaves George's lips, sure they flirted, occasionally he sent some selfies that he would get tons of compliments on. Though it was _never_ as intense as this.

__

He hears Dream say something about having to hang up, but George was too shocked to focus on his words. Simply staring at his phone watching the call end.

__

It took him a while to finally realize what just happened, and I feeling of disgust filled his chest. Dream was definitely making fun of him, and George believed every word. "Why would he want.. me?" George thinks aloud. His eyes starting to water. What did George expect to happen? A steamy phone sex session, admitting they've had feelings for each other, tell their fans they're together, and go on to get married?

__

No!

__

The world doesn't work that way. Sure, he grew up to have some lgbtq friends, England legalized gay marriage a couple years ago. But it still felt wrong. His friends would feel lied to. Being gay without telling them, what if they think he was getting off to them behind their backs? What if they only flirted and acted like ally's on screen, but hate homosexuality in reality?

__

Why else would Dream say that and hang up? Maybe Dream knew that it was a stretch and hung up to forget it ever happened.

__

' _No. Stop it George._ ' He thinks. They're his friends.. He's known them for ages. They would accept him, right?

__

Why is he even thinking of coming out..?

__

Dream was just messing around and unknowingly got George riled up, that's all. He was gonna make sure it stayed that way. He couldn't ruin their friendship with something like love. Even if he wishes it were requited. Of course he likes to believe that Dream likes him too. When he flirted with him compared to everyone else, it was different. He could feel it. But maybe it was only because he was more comfortable with him.

__

George's mind was running endlessly with reasons on why his love couldn't be requited. He convinced himself that Dream was straight, and would never look at George like that. His best _friend_. A tear slips his eye before he could stop it, letting them freely roam.

__

It was a call he would never forget, because it led to his downfall.

__


	2. Daily Overdose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George never recovered from that call, and neither did their friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would put loo for bathroom since its from Georges pov but.. no. also forgot to mention! in this fic George has his own apartment.

Everything changed since that phone call.

George didn't stream, get on any of their servers, or join anyone else's streams for a week. He felt _so_ stupid after the call. Why'd he have to go and overthink everything? If he just assumed Dream was messing with him, rather than really meaning it, their relationship wouldn't be so strained. Was strained the right word?

More like practically nonexistent.

He avoided every call sent his way by Dream, excuses coming so smoothly that it was hard _not_ to believe he was telling the truth. He just _couldn't_ bring himself to talk to his fans, let alone show his face. He felt embarrassed mostly, knowing Dream probably assumed that George understood he was joking around. Though because of that it was hard for it not to be obvious that George took it seriously. _Extremely_ seriously.

George avoids thinking about it, but his mind always wanders. Where would they be right now if he didn't get the wrong idea? Just normal friends? Would it have happened.. again? _This_ is why he hates thinking about it. It almost like he _wants_ to lead himself on. 

When he did get off his week long hiatus, he made sure to avoid Dream at all costs like joining streams he wasn't in, not taking part of Youtube videos he would be in, avoiding talking to him if he did get stuck in the same call as him. It was hard having the plan out what streams to join in when now that his lifelong goal is to avoid Dream. He had to make it not suspicious as possible how he suddenly couldn't join the call once he found out _he_ would be there.

He knew he was being _totally_ obvious, but just like he had realized before, Dream made him feel like a kid again. Meaning avoiding your crush like the plague after they find out. But no, Dream had other plans. 

It's astonishing how easily he found ways to practically _force_ George into talking to him so he didn't look suspicious if he ignored Dream. This went on for the following months, George making sure that they never talk unless necessary, and Dream attempting to make necessary every five seconds. To make it worse, anytime they did speak, Dream made _sure_ that it led into flirting. George was sure that his voice sounded _extremely_ uncomfortable to everyone, but no one spoke up and left him to suffer.

Suffering he did. He had to sit through every word that left Dreams lips, the butterflies in his chest fluttering like crazy. Especially when he had to flirt _back_. He had to refrain from making his voice sound shaky, and had to sound as casual as possible. He wanted to off himself. 

\---

So here George is, sat in his bubble bath, staring at his feet. High, as per usual.

He sinks deeper into the water, watching the water ripple away from him. He's not addicted, he tells himself. He simply doesn't see a reason _not_ to do them. Especially when they're right in front of you, ready for use. Though he will admit, he has increased how much he did. As in, to the point where people who watched his streams were talking about how he looked unfocused. Some even making jokes saying he looks high, right.. _jokes_. His brain malfunctions for a second before wondering, what if they knew he was high for those streams? 

As in, he's been high during _every_ single one. 

That, or he was drunk. Off wine of course, it's the best kind of drunk you can get. Plus, you won't act totally stupid and say something that would definitely get you in trouble.

He would probably receive tons of hate, imagining the comments, he makes up one in his head.

The angry ones, " _isn't George's audience made up of kids?? he's like a really bad influence on them then.._ ".

The neutral ones, " _whats it matter to us if he does drugs? he's doing him and he's not hurting anyone.. i still like his streams so.._ "

maybe even some supportive of the fact that he's gonna die early, " _he does drugs? fuuuuck yeah. georgeeeee if u see this u recommend anyone who sells edibles?? lololol_ ".

He sighs and kicks a foot out of the tub, staring at his wrinkled, soggy foot.

His throat lets out a harsh cackle, his throat and voice not what it used to be, before he opens twitter on his phone. Its a simple tweet ' _soggy toes lol_ ', but it gets a reaction from his fans. His lips quirk into a slight grin. Sure he may not give two fucks about his life or health, but seeing his fans happy about a couple words he wrote absentmindedly he cant help but be happy.

He would give the world to his fans, and he knew they would give it right back.

George finally gets out of the tub, forgetting about the fact that he literally didn't wash his body. All he did was sit there for an hour thinking of nothing, everything, and soggy toes. He grabs his nearest towel, knowing full well he used it to wipe ashes off his fingers. He tries not to think too much about it as he wraps it around his waist while exiting the bathroom. He thought about it, he hasn't opened his window in a while.. in fact he hasn't even went outside in a week..

Another sigh comes out as he makes his way to his window and pushing back the curtains, unlocking the window and pushing on the creaking hinges.

Way. Too. Bright.

" _Uhg! My eyes.._ " He sighs out, not giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the sunlight.

Were his lightbulbs that dim? Why was it so bright outside? He shuts it just as fast, hurriedly pushing the curtains back in front of it. He knew that he would probably need to leave the apartment for groceries soon.. eh. he could just get amazon to drop them off or something. He honestly had nothing to do, he replied to all of his business emails, reply to texts from Sapnap and argue with Tommy about something he doesn't remember.

He walked into his kitchen, grabbing the first cookies he could get his hands on. He didn't even bother checking if they were the normal kind before eating a ton of them. _God_ he was bored. Settling for roaming his kitchen, his eyes dance around the counters. He looks at family portraits and some with his friends. Theres tons of rolling paper, tissues, papers he scribbled on with abandoned ideas for videos etc. He should probably clean..

Is he going to? No.

Scrolling through his phone it is. 

Though that's when he sees it. _Way_ more messages than he usually gets. From literally everyone that had his number. The messages range from, 'it'll be over soon! don't feel too bad about it!' to 'do NOT open ur socials, just wait till dream fixes this.'. George was scared, definitely _fucking_ scared. Being bombarded by messages from people he rarely texted and people he texts all the time. That's when he notices one of them, from the last person he would want one from.

Dreams contact is daunting. It hasn't been opened since the fateful call. His heart clenches, a frown etching onto his face. He was remembering too many memories, when they could talk without feeling restricted, _scared_. Maybe If they never grew apart, they would meet on their own, he would get to feel his touch, his skin, see his -what he's assuming- radiant smile. That smile would be on just him. Since it would be _just_ them. If he hadn't messed everything up.

Sure, there's always the chance that Dream would act like they never drifted apart if he acted like it never happened. Dream welcoming him back with open arms, not pushing him to explain himself. Just tell George that he missed him. Ah, what could've been.

He opens their chat, not even thinking of turning read receipts off and reads the simple message, 'I shouldn't have phrased it like that, I'm sorry. ill tell the fans to back off. you can yell at me if you want. or go back to ignoring me. fucj. jus ignre the last messge.'. George's eyes were wide open, what the _fuck_ did he do? It wasn't the biggest thing for Dream to misspell, but it didn't happen often since George had the habit of _always_ correcting him. Not listening to _anyones_ advice, he opens twitter. 

He immediately regrets it.

It's filled with hate tweets, like _thousands_ of hate tweets. Ranging from cursing him out, calling him a bad friend, saying they knew something was off with him lately. A couple catch his eye though, ' _It was kinda obvious in Dreams voice that he genuinely meant what he said. I could practically feel his pout from there. cheer up bb! #fuckgeorge!!_ ’ It takes every bone in his body to keep himself from collapsing onto the floor. Theres even a _hashtag_? How was George supposed to come back from this? Everyone hates him!

__

He notices another one, ' _omg he sounded so sad!!! he just missed his bestie :(( what the hell is George on letting someone like him go! #fuckgeorge you asshole.. I'll consider forgiving you if you and dream make up >:('_

__

George froze, he _missed_ him?!

He finally finds a tweet showing the clip that made everyone go crazy. It's from Karls stream.

...

_The video starts off with everyone laughing at a joke that happened before someone started screen recording._

_Karl was in third person around the other guys, character crouching and uncrouching while the camera spins around like crazy, a silly grin on his face._

_"Hey.. didn't you guys notice how George was being pretty awkward lately?" Sapnap says, changing the topic over to the main event. Right. The main event. As in why he's currently _cancelled_! He hold his breath in anticipation on who would talk next._

_Theres a slight pause as he watches Karl's character stop moving and Karl himself lean back against his chair. A look of excitement covering his features before he opens his stupid loud mouth._

__

_"Yeah! Especially towards Dream. Before he would practically ignore us if Dream was saying something. See! Everyone in the chat noticed." Karl states loudly, not aware of the huge ass elephant in the room. There's a slight tension in the call, as if no one knew what to say since Karl was just that dull._

_Dreams voice cuts in, a breath catching in George's throat._

_"Yeah.. it's kinda making me feel lonely. Not that you guys aren't awesome and sexy-" cackles fill the silence before Dream continues, "..but me and George were always two peas in a pod, now we don't even talk outside of streams!"_

_George can hear the slight cough in Dreams throat, he can tell that he didn't mean to say that much. A couple _oo's_ and _aww's filter in, as if they were middle schoolers and someone just talked back to a teacher. George has to refrain from rolling his eyes at the kids he was listening to.__

__

_"Maybe it was my awesomeness, too much to handle huh." He quickly jokes, making everyone laugh loudly._

__

_"Yeah, Dreams so awesome and sexy. Of course George wouldn't be able to handle that all the time!" More laughing from his phone fills his otherwise silent room._

__

_"Yeah.. I must've said something wrong though." Dream pauses,_

__

_"I didn't think I would miss him _this_ much!" His tone sounded joking, but George could hear it. The yearning, for him, George._

__

_"Fuck George!" Someone calls out, not having time to figure out who started it, because everyone started saying it. He can tell by how they say it that they're joking and thats when he realizes. The fans didnt realize they didnt mean it. Georges heart drops. Everyone genuinely thinks that everyone in the Dream SMP hates him. That's how the hashtag started.  
___

George is panicking now, what does he do? What _can_ he do? Dream already said he would take care of it. But _he's_ the reason that this is all happening. He could feel an upcoming panic attack coming, knowing there was only one thing he could do that could stop it. He checks his phone one more time, his fingers icy cold and shaking when he see's even more hate tweets. Even people responding to Dreams tweets trying to explain he was joking telling him he didn't have to lie. 

He didnt even realize hw was starting to read one aloud, " _Dream why are you sticking up for him? friends aren't supposed to make each other feel lonely! drop his ass! #fuckgeorge_ "

Well if he wasn't hyperventilating before, he definitely was now. Most tweets were similar to the one he just read, he came across Dreams account replying to some saying that if they didnt stop harassing him that he would have to block them. Dream was going to have to _block_ his fans because of him. All because they were defending Dream. If this went on, then not only is George's career on the line, but Dreams.

His fingers are moving before he can stop himself, 

_'fuck u guys.'_

George was shocked when his phone was blowing up with notifications, he turned notifications off for almost _everything_. Only things like his email, texts, etc were on. Oh fuck. He grabs at his phone, seeings messages roll in one after the other. Some freaking out about what he just said, some slightly cheering him on for defending himself.. immaturely though. Most of them though, were from Dream. ' _Fucking obviously_ ', he thought. He kinda did just say fuck you to quite literally anyone, he didnt exactly make it clear who he was cursing out.

Suddenly, George's phone lights up from a call, and his mouth drops. Dream genuinely is _calling_ him right now. Not as if this is the first time in weeks that they texted, first time they called since the call that _led_ to this shit! He shakily accepts the call, putting it on speaker and sitting the phone back down. It's silent for a second, as if Dream didn't actually expect him to answer the phone. Before George speaks first.

...

"D-Dream?" George breathes out his name shakily, he should be angry. They were both in the wrong, both messed up something in a way. But it was obvious that Dream just tipped the bucket over, causing this reaction. George wouldn't be surprised if this was the downfall of both their careers. 

The response he got though, was no where near what he expected . Maybe to be cursed out, profusely apologized to, more awkward silence. Anything but what just left Dreams lips. Another thing he would never be able to forget, another set of feelings he'll always remember feeling.

"I missed you, I'm sorry." 

George just stared down at his phone in shock, as if he didn't hear him correctly. He froze for a second, waiting to see if Dream just stumbled over his words, waiting to see if he corrected himself. Though there wasn't any rephrasing, just a mutual silence between them. Why? Why was the first thing out of his mouth that he misses him. Why, why, why? Why couldn't he have said something easier on his heart? Not that, anything but that.

"The fuck you mean, you miss me? Teasing me during that fucking call, making it obvious that I was avoiding you, and then told everyone around us how you were lonely? Lonely since I wasn't talking to you? This wouldn't have happened if you didn't lead me on with that call-" "Lead you on?!"Dream roared, overlapping George's words,"When I told you how I felt seeing you in that photo, not a single fucking lie left my mouth!" 

"You're fucking lying right now! Why else would you hang up after saying that? Its cause you regretted it!" He yells back, tears springing to his eyes. "Asshole, asshole, asshole." he repeated while slamming his fist against the kitchen counter. "I hate you I hate you so fucking much." 

"I love you." Dream breathed out, silence ensuing.

The silence was deafening to George's ears. Loves him? Him? The George who cut him off like nothing? The same George that _Dream_ hung up on right after saying something that would change their relationship for good, wether he was serious or not. It was the three words he wanted to hear from Dream the most. Yet Dream managed to make it sound scratchy to his ears, a broken and scratched record. _So_ wrong.

"Love me?" George lets out another one of his throaty cackles, you could almost hear the burn in his throat when he lets it out. "Like I'd believe that. Why're we even getting off track? We're supposed to be taking about how you almost ruined my career, yours might be coming down with mine!"

"That's my fault? Who was the one that started avoiding me? Making the streams awkward? Streaming when you looked dead and obviously drunk off your ass?!" A harsh voice yells, "Maybe if you paid attention when I said why I was hanging up, we wouldn't be here right now!" George froze, his argument stuck in his throat.

Dream wasn't wrong, he definitely wasn't listening when he was talking about hanging up. All he remembered hearing was a '-go' and watching the call end.

"Then what did you say..?" George cracks, letting himself give himself a second of hope, not much, but a sliver.

"So now you wanna listen to what I have to say huh?" Nevermind, George didn't want to know.

"Never-fucking-mind then. Just- what are we gonna do?" George was slowly giving up, wanting nothing more than a nice nap. Maybe smoke a joint to make that nap extra nice. He didn't even realize he wasn't listening to what Dream was saying, having to focus back on him "Repeat that for me..?" George says quietly, knowing he would probably be scolded or yelled at.

Instead he just hears a disappointed sigh, as if he were trying to hold himself back from starting another yelling session. Or maybe he was too worn out, tired just like he was.

"Let's go live on Twitch, we can explain what happened. Pretend like you didn't cut me off as if I was never part of your life in the first place. All of that good stuff." Dreams words were straight to the point, and harsh. They carved an even bigger hole into his never ending void. With everything going on he almost forgot how this weren't going on he would be drunk, or high, his only two settings.

"Yeah. But that can wait." He hears a confused noise come through the speaker. "For now though, I am gonna smoke all the weed I have in this damn apartment. Eat all my leftover edibles too.. ooh maybe even some whiskey too. You know.. just to wash it all down.

"George they aren't just gonna calm down overnight- what the fuck did you just say?"George could _hear_ the fear and anger in his voice. "You're.. joking, right?" Dreams voice was extremely shaky at that point, praying he misheard, praying that George didn't indirectly say that he was gonna practically overdose off of drugs.

"Of course not, I spent my hard earned money on it.. why deny it?" George teases, already hunting through his drawers and cabinets.

"Then I'll buy a fucking ticket and go all the way there to make are you don't kill yourself and do the damn explanation." _'A blatant lie',_ George thinks.

"Cant wait to see you puppy." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all who left kudos and comments! it's great to know that you guys are enjoying it so far. here is the second chapter! I really just wanna show Georges's feelings from his pov as descriptive as possible because from someone else he might seem overdramatic. definitely not heading in a slow burn relationship, but I still want to make it plenty long enough. hope you enjoyed.


	3. Adding Fuel to The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more George kills himself, the more he feels alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya'll this is probably like the worst chapter that involved drug intake, everything changes from this point on. just like really heavy stuff. if you cant handle sensitive topics just wait till the next chapter is out unless its already out for you. you can tell I don't like angst from how this is only lasting three chapters.. ALSO this fic will probably involve song lyrics half of the time so if you notice, woooooo.

George couldn't tell if the silence that enclosed his apartment was calming, or way too damn loud. All he knew, is that he wanted out immediately.

He was lost, cold, and numb from the xans he took a second ago, and for once not drunk. His usual combination; minus at the alcohol, but this time he took double the usual amount. He swung the pill bottle in front of his face, hearing them click and clack against each other, rattling inside the small container. He also knew full well that drinking with Xanax in his system could be fatal, and have killed thousands of people. Which is why he decided not to drink this once, though the though of dying at that moment wasn't too bad.

Feeling stupid, he slaps himself across the face testing to see if it would wake him up any. Snap him out of his depressive episode. Make him throw up everything he ate or drank, drink some water, and take a well deserved nap, and just figure his shit out. George knew he wasn't going to do that, feeling like he would've wasted all the money he spent on the stuff thats currently running through his system. 

He numbly stares down at his feet, wondering where it all went wrong.He felt guilty in a way, his life was better than so many others, a roof over his head, food in his stomach, everything he ever wanted. Yet here he was, feeling bad about his small problems, drinking his sorrows away. He grumbled and walked in circles around his living room unsure what to do.

He was already pretty fucked up, and not exactly in the mood to just, you know, _die_. All of his fans seeing on the news that ' _Big Minecraft Streamer Just Found Dead in His Home!_ '. It's a bitter feeling, knowing that he would be causing hundreds of thousands of people pain. It's a selfish way to think, an even more selfish to do. George knows he doesn't have the heart to do that to his fans.

It's not like he _wants_ pity for it either. So why did everyone think he did? Why does everyone think he's an attention seeker? Think that he's lazy because he didn't want to do something, lazy because he did but didn't have the time to. Why did they _always_ assume. Why'd they always think that he purposely tried to make people upset? All because he's a different person. He's not them, they aren't him, so why do they always put words in his fucking mouth?

It made him feel worthless, like no one understood him, and as soon as he finds someone that does, he loses them all over again.

If Dream were here.. he would probably hold George in his arms as close as possible. Squeeze him tight and tell him his feelings are just as valid as anyone else's, that he wasn't insensitive for feeling unhappy with all he has. George squeezes his arms, staring down at his dirty tattered couch, ' _Maybe on a cleaner couch though, in newer clothes_ ' He thought.

He brushes his hand against it, rough and covered in dust and stains. He's lucky he never has guests come over or his life would be _over_. Is that.. mold starting to grow on it?

Well that's gross, maybe he'll order a new couch online. A nice black leather couch so you cant see any stains. Yeah, that would work, he'll get on that later though.

Maybe Dream would rubs circles calmingly into his back, telling him to relax, how he'll make it all better. He would sit George down on their kitchen counter, pushing his head down jokingly before dropping his arms around his waist. He would leave a kiss on the tip of his nose, blowing air into his eyes making George cringe away and glare. Then.. then he would make him a meal. His first homemade meal in a while. George would try and sneak some of the food before its done, causing Dream to whine about it when he gets caught.

Once Dream finishes they'll sit down at their dinner table and have a conversation while eating their meals. A calm one, without arguments, without misunderstanding. They'll play footsies underneath the table as they eat, plan what to do for that days stream. Just live the life he's dreamt of with him. The one he's fantasizing right now. Dream would do all of that with him.

A shiver goes down his spine.

Maybe Dream would, George isn't sure though.

If he did though, Dream would probably make him set up the table when he was close to finishing. Teasing him for his messy utensils drawer. George lets a smile rest on his face, feeling it fall when he sees his worn out ash covered table. Old napkins and swisher wrappers practically covering the entire mini table. They towered over him dauntingly, threatening him to move the table an inch and see what happens.

He sees some shattered glass on it too, maybe from an old beer bottle he swung around while he was drunk. When he was drunk, he was clumsy. It made him feel warm and content, like he could do anything. Maybe he believed he could host a concert and danced on stage, shattering the beer bottle he might have used as a mic. That seems fun, he wouldn't mind holding a mini concert for no one at the moment. The trash would probably topple over though, he can feel his mood souring again.

Did he not take enough pills? Why was he feeling upset right now? Shit, he needs to distract himself.

He slowly sits down at the table, using his sleeved arm to swipe the tissues, swisher wrappers, and glass off the table, hearing more shattering as it hits the floor. That was definitely an entire bottle. Well shit, there's some more broken glass to pick up. There's still more trash on the table, no matter how many times he tries to get it off it just wont _go_. God he feels like he's going _insane_! This is so _annoying_!

"Just get off the damn table fucking cunt!"

Rage fills his chest and before he knows it he's throws the table the opposite of the wall, crashing into his kitchen floor and slamming into cabinets. He hears a cup or plate fall onto the floor in retaliation. Theres a sick feeling in his gut, making him feel like he was about to puke. George should definitely let himself throw up, for his health, not that he's going to. He closes his eyes and takes a breath, counts down from ten, and tries to calm himself.

The chair that was on the opposite side of the table had toppled over, leaving only one chair left standing. He sits on it absentmindedly, staring at his feet. They're littered in cuts not even knowing where he managed to get them from. Were there shards on the floor too? This whole time? It would make sense, it would be weird for there to be shards of the glass just on the time, magically not falling on the floor.

At least his feet doesn't hurt, maybe its the drugs in his system numbing not only his emotional pain, but physical. It was weird, if he added more cuts.. would he feel them? He picks up a random shard, tempted. But he won't, he shouldn't, for his body's sake. Its already deteriorating as it is. It's depressing to look at it, and he cant help but wonder what could've happened when he threw that table.

What if the shards of glass cut his skin, got in his eyes, hair even? He's done so many things to his body, unforgiving things. Yet he's worried about some scratches?

' _Pathetic._ ', he thinks.

What should he even do? He has nothing to do, his pantry empty other than water (he drank all the alcohol already), he doesn't have the heart to touch his phone again, let alone get up to turn his tv or computer on. He can hear his neighbors for once, his apartment usually too chaotic for him to hear.

He slowly scoots his chair closer to the wall, listening in. There's nothing much going on, he can hear soft music playing, and laughter from two women. Theres giggles, a few _ouch!_ 's here and there, and the sounds of people bumping into something cueing more laughter. He realizes that the two girls are slow dancing to the music, clumsily at that. George wonders, could he ever have that with Dream?

...

_"George oh my god. Its left, right, left, right! All we're doing is rocking back and forth! What's so hard about that?" Dream scolds, glaring down at George, George responding with a pout on his face._

____

_They were in Dreams kitchen, a slow song came up on their playlist and George was immediately swept into his arms. Sunlight streamed through all the windows, lighting up the whole house, including Dreams light colored hair. It made it look golden, shiny, and extremely soft. He squeezes Dreams cheeks in retaliation, can he see the face of the person he's squeezing? No. Though his hands feel content where they are. So he squeezes and huffs._

______ _ _

_"I did! You're the one who's messing up! If its right left vice versa why'd you go right huh? Stop blaming me!" He huffs, dropping his hands from Dreams shoulder and stepping back. His foot trips a bit so he plays it off by propping his arms and hands back, holding himself against the counter._

________ _ _ _ _

_Dream gives George a look, smirking before speeding forward. He traps George between his arms, bodies completely pressed against each other. There were no sexual intents with this, only the calming feeling of being one with him. Well, now he was trapped between a happy Dream, who was currently nuzzling him. Not that he would want to be anywhere else._

 _He runs a hand through Dreams unruly hair, tangled and knotted from him not brushing it._

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Running his hands through it again, they catch on one of the clumps and earning a hiss from his partner. "Thats what happens if you don't brush your hair!" He teases, peppering chaste kisses into it._

__

_He continues slowly running his hands through, attempting to get rid of the knots without pulling or ripping his hair out and apart._

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_He felt so warm. In his imagination he could have whoever, feel whatever, be whoever. Though at this moment, all he wants to be is himself, happy, and in Dreams arms._

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_"Hey! My lips are down here." Dream whines, trying to make Georges lips fall against his. It takes everything for him to not return them, the fact that he cant even see his face helps fight the urge and hold himself back._

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_"Huh? Your lips are where?" George teases. It's not like he wasn't wrong to ask that. He quite literally couldn't see his lips. Rather, he couldn't see any features at all. It wasn't creepy though._

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_It was quite concerning how he wasn't freaked out by the void in dreams head. All he could see was his hair, a bit of a jawline, and the rest of his body. He sighs, resting his face in the crook of Dreams neck, feeling Dream respond by squeezing the arms that he was currently caged in._

____________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Happy. Thats how he was feeling._

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Happy and content with his boyfriend-_

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

That snaps him out of his trance. Boyfriend? He gapes at himself, shocked at what he was thinking about. As if Dream would want to date him. ' _I love you.._ ', right.. that. Even if George was the first to expose how he felt, Dream was still the first to come out and say ' _I love you_ '.

What if he did mean it? They were in an argument, its hard for things that you didn't mean to say _not_ to slip out. He shouldn't overthink it anyways.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Since if Dream _was_ telling the truth, then he just fucked everything up, like _no_ coming back from it. Maybe in the explanation stream he would be forgiven, forgiven for ignoring Dream, forgiven for saying 'fuck you' to whoever took offense to his tweet, but their relationship would forever stay strained.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

George wouldn't be able to handle talking to Dream after everything is fixed, let alone be able to pretend they're still friends. Having to have conversations? Having to flirt? The idea of it makes his gut turn. Luckily for him though, his mental and physical health may be bad enough at some point in the very near future that he wouldn't be able to stream at all.

His eyes wander towards the wall, beer stains coating it, his eyes finally settling on a pure white part of the wall. He stares at it for who knows how long.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He suddenly felt cold, like, extremely cold. Was his air-conditioning messing up? His toes and fingers started going numb, his veins becoming a more striking blue from his skin becoming pale. He slowly stood up from the chair, holding himself against it to keep steady, oddly sobering up.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He drank way too much alcohol to be sober right now.. what's going on? He was shivering a lot now, its only been what? Thirty minutes or so since the call? He tilts head up, looking up at his clock, eyes widening from shock.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Almost 6 hours has already passed. What did he do this whole time? Stare at a wall, fantasize, throw things out of anger? Did he pass out without even noticing? He could see the sun starting to rise through the peephole of his door, glaring at the sun as if it was gonna apologize and go back up.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wasn't he supposed to live it up tonight? Get high, drunk, blast music way to loud, and be too tired and fucked out to jump on his bed while listening to midwest emo playlists? He slaps himself in the face a couple times before rushing off to his room, stumbling over his own feet. Desperate times call for desperate measures right?

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He shakes his hand around underneath his bed before finally grabbing hold of what he was looking for. His _bong_. It was huge, well, he did spend a _thousand_ dollars on it. It was a spur of the (drunken) moment, wanting something better than his basic $200 bong. It curved into waves at the sides and was tinted slightly red, the mouthpiece having bite marks from him absentmindedly chewing on it.

He digs around his dresser, pulling out an airtight bag of cannabis. Problem is, the bag wasn't airtight, it was _empty_.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He gaped at the empty bag, why the _hell_ would he put it back in there if he was out? Is he just plain stupid? He stares at the bag dumbfounded and drops the bag, letting it slowly fall to to floor. He stares at the wall thinking of what he could do, his head was already pounding from the alcohol and he wanted to save his his Xanax for when he needed to sleep, when the anxiety kept his mind running wild at night. It takes a couple minutes, but it finally hits him.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_The party_.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He was barely on the houses driveway when he could hear the music inside blasting, making his aching headache worse.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The party he was referring to appears as just a normal drinking party, sometimes decorated with holiday decorations or pretending it was someones birthday. All because what was inside, wasn't allowed to be inside. In reality, it was a party full of druggies. The dealers and the sellers all huddled up in one spot, ready to do business.

Since things like cannabis and coke weren't legal in the UK the dealing had to be discreet. But sometimes people could go to the places where the dealer was, so they set up a system.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A group of guys that went to George's high school set it up so that they could buy a cheap run down house together and hold parties every weekend, where only they could sell and anyone could come and buy. Sometimes they let their friends go and deal things like shrooms and angel dust.

He can feel a blush dust his cheeks as he thinks about the names for them, he always felt kinda weird when thinking or saying what they were called. No clue why.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He awkwardly passes by couples sharing a bit too much PDA, keeping his head down as if the ground had suddenly become the most interesting thing there.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The smell rushes into his lungs and hits him like a truck, smells of things he can recognize and cant fill his nose, hanging on to what substances he had left in him and clinging in an attempt to keep him from becoming sober. He shrinks into himself when he finally walks up the steps and into the house, seeing everyone but his dealer. _Right_ , his dealer.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He found him by word of mouth by some of his old classmates, saying that he sold cheaper than other people. So George decided it was a safe bet and went to find him. Problem was, the guy _knew_ George. Like _the_ GeorgeNotFound. So obviously, he got taken advantage of. The guy took a photo and told George that if he went to any other dealers he would post it, making sure to charge him double the normal amount.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He continued to go to the dealer anyways, knowing it would make him seem like an addict, he _wasn't_. He just knew he could afford to pay double from his donos. He wasn't addicted.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He walks farther into the house, tugging up his mask, getting weird looks from the people inside. ' _Why come here if your just gonna wear a mask?_ ', George interpreted from their faces. Sorry not sorry for being popular, you gotta do what you gotta do. George ducks his head for the hundredth time, feeling like some awkward kid at a middle school dance not knowing what to do.

He finally recognizes someone, a friend of his dealer, and rushes up to them.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Oli.." George coughs out, feeling awkward when everyone turned to look at him. He flicks his eyes back to the man, Oliver, taking in his appearance. A rectangular head sure, but if he took a shower and shaved his beard he wouldn't look half bad. Well, that's his choice.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Clay! Lad, whaddya doin' here!" _Right_ , Georges code name. What a coincidence of it being Dreams actual name, no clue how that happened.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Erm, you know.. ran out so I came here instead. Where's Hunter at?" George asks, scratching the back of his neck, suddenly feeling impatient.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Theres suddenly a loud slam of a door opening, tons of girls and guys tumbling out, smoke flowing out of the room. The party is suddenly 10 times louder, and the atmosphere gets a litter more hyper.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Oliver tilts his head towards the group, smiling with a ' _there he blows!_ ' look, before turning back to his friends. George had to refrain from giving up and just walking out, and instead walked towards the large group. His eyes roam before settling on the guy, Hunter, eyes blown out and a smirk resting on his face.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

George was 100% sure that Hunter thought he looked attractive with that smirk, when in reality, he looked like a child predator. He holds in a giggle at the thought, before calling out to him.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Ge- Clay! My man! Haha, what brings you here!" Hunter slings an arm around George's shoulder, reeking of quite literally everything, he wasn't sure if he was glad that it at least covered the scent of Hunters sweat. He awkwardly drops the mans arm from his shoulder, turning towards him with a grim expression.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I need my usual!” George yells, leaning in a bit. "How many grams you got on you?” He asks, really wanting to leave now.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Aw come on! You come to one of my infamous parties and ask for weed? Come on, this time I wont even charge you double.." Hunter tugs something out of his inside pocket, pulling out a paper looking thing, reminding him of a mail stamp.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"It's acid.” The man grins, shoving it into his hands. "You can pay me next time, when you come for more!” He starts laughing loudly, slapping it into his hand before rushing off and enjoying the party. He must've been super drunk to not get money from George. He stares down at it, aren't those called.. blotter tabs? He knew they didn't cost that much, but it was still surprising.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He hears a loud ' _Ooh!_ ' bellow out from behind him, seeing a girl with multicolored hair look at what was in his hand. He could make out bits of what she was saying, and heard something about letting it dissolve under your tongue. He also heard something about ' _10 minutes_ ', unsure if thats how long it takes to finally hit him or how long he leaves it in his mouth.

All he knew was, he was about to try it.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He makes direct eye contact with the smiling girl, before dropping it under his tongue. She lets out a loud cheer, saying something about not swallowing before leaving him be, well, let's see what happens.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He was _fucked_.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Like stars on the floor, walls dripping onto the ground, ceiling now an endless sky. He was _gone_. He felt over the moon, never this happy before. At least he was having a good trip, maybe Hunter wasn't wrong about him coming back for more. His head was empty and full at the same time. Blood rushing through his veins and head, blocking out all noises and making them so much louder at once.

He had no clue how much time had passed, he just knew the paper in his mouth was gone.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It was like time no longer existed, not that it did in the first place, right? He was bumping into a new person every step he took, their faces and bodies looking a bit cartoonish, he feel a vibration in his back pocket, didn't he turn it off? He'll just ignore it.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Tingles were going down his spine, eyes rolling to the back of his head. His mask was no where to be seen, but no one seemed to recognize him so he was safe for now. Though at this point he could care less if they exposed him, as long as he could keep feeling like _this_ he could care less.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He strolled into the kitchen, his environment looking as wild as usual, just with less people. More room to have more of an imagination. He saw cartoon and anime characters on the counters, the pantry door a slimy mess on the floor, the microwave on fire. Every step he took felt like he was sinking and flying at the same time.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

George can feel his phone ringing, realizing that its been ringing this whole time, he just didn't realize. His vision was too blurry to see the contact, answering without a thought in his mind.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

" _Finally! God, George! Where are you!?_ " Dream? Why the hell is he asking where he is? I don't know, maybe in an entirely different country?

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

George hears an angry huff on the other end, and the sound of a car door opening and closing. He hears the engine turn on, aggravating George farther.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"The way you're blowing my phone wont make me answer any faster! Fuck off!" George yells into the phone, the party still blasting music at this time making him unsure of how loud he was being.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

" _A-Are you at a party? Shit.. I think I can hear the same music coming from you a couple streets away.._ " He can what? George is way too high for this conversation, his phone looking like it was dripping from his hands when being firm in his grasp. 

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"God I should've left my phone at home cause this is a disaster!" He yells into the phone, hanging up angrily. Somehow that same anger caused his trip to not be so good. He no longer felt like he was floating, if anything sinking, quickly into the ground. The walls looked like they were collapsing, and the people around him looking like shadows trying to grab him and sink him farther.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He stumbled out into the living room, way too crowded for his own good, feeling a panic attack coming. He felt like his skin was being peeled off by everyone around him, like they were ripping him apart. He took deep breaths as he sat on the floor, a couple drunk and confused people stumbling over to him offering help.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

George awkwardly refused their help, just trying to calm down. The drugs were still in his system, trying to drag him down farther, causing him to grip at the carpet. The people smoking around him caused the smoke to blind him, only seeing fog until he heard a familiar voice yelling, and then stepping in front of him.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

His eyes slowly wander up, the mans body being surprisingly fit, hoodie clung to their body from sweat, before finally meeting their eyes. He's never seen those eyes, though the second he saw them he knew exactly who they belonged to.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"George, please.. get a hold of yourself." Dream says exasperatedly. He couldn't hold the coughs from climbing out of his throat, eyes watering from his stinging throat and fog in his eyes.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Dream..? What are you doing in England..?" His words were a bit slurred, eyes a fiery red squinting to see through the clouds of weed and more. A loopy grin fits across his face, bitter in a way, "Who would've thought the first time I see your face is like this.", he harshly cackles out.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Why do you think I'm here George? Why do you think I went to fly to you? Its because of this. Your killing yourself.”

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Killing myself? I would be worried if the drugs weren't doing what I got them for.” George says with a smirk, he didn't exactly do it to kill himself, he just said it to be a bit more dramatic. That's what he would continue to tell himself.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

But Dreams glare was intense, and before he knew it there was a hand grabbing his arm and dragging him up. He gets slammed into the mans chest, breath stolen away from him.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Shit, you smell too strong to go to the airport right now.. gotta get you home..”He can hear Dream talking about something, but he's suddenly tired and hyper at the same time. He lets himself get dragged along into Dreams.. car? How'd he get a car.. how was he even here?

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He didn't have the chance to ask though, Dream speaking up again.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I'm taking you home, giving you a bath, and bringing you back home with me, so snap out of it."

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should I continue italicizing the words when they talk? if its annoying to read just comment and say so, I'll start making it normal. also I don't read/have a beta reader, so theres probably some /-insert word-/ in there that I forgot to erase.
> 
> edit: i made the text normal


	4. Talking to a Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream has a one sided conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have twitter now!
> 
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/forestydeku)
> 
> (and if u saw me delete this like 3 times sorry not sorry I kept messing something up)

George wasn't exactly sure what was happening, all he could process was him being lifted off the ground and dragged out of the house. He struggled a bit in an attempt to get out of Dreams grasp, but his grip was scarily tight. Fear coursed through him when they finally made it to the car, Dream hastily opening the door and pushing him in.

Dream was wearing a black mask, only covering his mouth rather than his nose. George stared and assumed he was too much in a rush to bother taking it off completely. Dreams hair was damp and clung to his forehead causing him to have to flick it back every once in a while, noticing how he was driving with one hand. 

The other was busy clamping down on George's arm, as if he thought George would just jump out if given the opportunity. It was an attractive look for Dream in a way, sweaty and driving in a rush.

 _Poor time to be thinking about that though_ , George thought.

 _Aren't I like getting kidnapped right now?_ He wonders, head lolling in the direction of the window, staring out of it. Dream had managed to get George to unlock his phone, immediately using the GPS to guide them to his apartment. It was only a ten minute drive back to his house. How'd he find George anyways? Kinda creepy..

George wasn't exactly feeling much at this moment. No longer happy, no longer sad. Just a bit confused, a little nervous and scared, and a lot of nothing. He knew this whole predicament made no sense. He knows everything that just happened made no sense. But he couldn't bring himself to actually think about everything that just happened.

It was silent for the most part. He could hear the car's engine rumble, the sound of birds cawing, and the sound of the tires driving atop the concrete. The air around them was warm yet cold at the same time, probably Dreams body heat wandering over to Georges side, encasing him. George shivered, if they were both warm, why'd he feel so _so_ cold?

As they continued driving he started recognizing some of the streets they were driving on, the street lamps barely lighting up them.

Well maybe he didn't recognize the streets, the drugs in his system simply making him hallucinate. There were a couple stray cats wandering about, dogs still barking in the middle of the night, and lights still on with laughing families inside. 

Something that he never got to experience, huh.

It wasn't that his family hated him.. they just, didn't care for him. They never did really. They raised him, they fed him, they did what parents were meant to do. They did everything.. but love him. Yet he couldn't bring himself to really _care_. He received his love for the first time when he streamed, love from his friends, from his fans, from _Dream_.

That was good enough for him, or so he thought.

He noticed a few people riding their bikes, and noticed them all wearing large backpacks and a couple having fast food soda cups in their baskets, assuming they were delivering food. He could use some food right about now. A nice juicy burger, fattening fries, a soda just as large as one from the U.S. Their proportions were so much larger there.

He lolls his head back over to face the front, peeking over at Dream and accidentally making eye contact. Dream eyes widen a bit, before immediately fitting his eyes back on the road, a bit flushed but still a bitter look on his face.

"There's uh.. ashes on your face." Dream coughs out, making a turn without looking in his direction.

His head pounded from Dreams words, his ears suddenly being sensitive to any noise that came out, causing his slowly coming headache to hurt even more.

George lets out a _huh_ without making the effort to do anything about it. His mind was still too whirly to comprehend much, everything around him was swirling, and he wasn't even sure if he could even move his hands in the right direction. He peers down at his lap, reality coming back to him, his mind sober but his body not feeling like _his_. 

Like someone or something stole it from him. Like he was simply a host in a body he couldn't control. Would he ever get control of his body again? It felt like he would feel like this till the end of eternity.

He thinks nothing of it when Dream stops the car at a stop sign, but flinches the second he sees a hand move in his peripheral vision. It pauses before grabbing onto Georges chin, tilting it in Dreams direction. He lets out a short breath, eyes too weak to widen, but heartbeat picking up the pace. He makes direct eye contact with Dream and his heart stops.

He was _dashing_.

His eyes looked golden from the light reflecting on them, his face red and flushed, and god the way he was looking at George. Like he had to hold him so tight yet so gently. It made him feel a way he's never felt before. He could feel his eyes burn a bit, trying to hold them from getting watery.

George was entranced, yearning so intensely to look away, but his eyes stuck on Dream. He felt so comforted, yet so terrified by how just looking at him made him feel. He wanted to tug Dreams mask off, to be able to truly see him, but he felt too weak.

Dream tugged his hoodie sleeve against his palm, finally making contact with George's face, George couldn't stop his eyes from falling shut. Dream was so gentle with him, wiping his face just enough to get it off, but not hard or rough enough to startle him.

George was glad his eyes were shut because if he saw how Dream was looking at him, he wasn't sure what he would do. 

His hands would randomly pause on Georges face, simply caressing him, admiring him. Or maybe he was disappointed with his looks. Maybe he thought his dark and sunken eye bags were unattractive, that he wasn't like how he looked during the streams or calls, maybe he was simply doing this so that he didn't feel responsible for George's downfall. 

But when Dream pressed a hand onto his head, brushing the hair back, and lightly planting a chaste kiss onto his hair, his mind emptied. Dream did that knowing he probably didn't shower, he smelled like alcohol and drugs, that it was matted from him not bothering to brush it. He still felt the need to do that for George, or even, for himself.

If this is how he died, he would've died happy.

He felt himself slowly lose consciousness though, felt himself go limp. He barely felt Dream stop wiping off his face, barely hearing him mumble something, but he couldn't hear what he said. He tried to keep himself up, to ask what Dream said, but he was out of it, passed out in the passenger's seat of the rented car.  
__

He's awoken by a light shaking to his shoulders, his vision going white when he attempts to open his eyes, settling for keeping them shut. He hears a sigh from the person shaking him, a door shutting, and his door opening. He squinted a bit, eyes wide open when he saw Dream's face merely a few inches from his.

"Ah! God uh, sorry. It's just, gotta get you up haha." Dream says awkwardly.

"Can you.. stand?" He asks, Dream not noticing his own hand currently gripping George's thigh. He wasn't scared, but he wasn't comfortable. He wanted whatever was happening to be a dream, he wanted to wake up back at the party and act like he has nothing to do in his life.

George ignored Dream talking to him, tilting his head onto his shoulder and slipping back into sleep. He felt like he would throw up if he was awake any longer, and _god_ would that be embarrassing. Well, this whole situation is embarrassing enough he supposes. He can hear Dream pause his rambling, felt Dreams' eyes staring down at him, he assumes in pity. 

He can't stop the gasp when he feels Dreams hands grip under each thigh, lifting him up with little to no struggle. He wasn't carried bridal style, rather the one you commonly see parents lifting their kids. George had his legs wrapped around Dreams waist, arms tossed over each of Dreams shoulders. He felt a blush creep up his neck and cheeks realizing that Dreams hands were on his ass. 

It was the only way to hold him up without him falling, but embarrassing nonetheless.

"You're too fucking light George, have you even been eating?" Dream asks. He sounds mad and concerned at the same time, causing George to tense up. He was a grown man, he shouldn't be able to be carried that easily, he knew that much. It still causes a frown to cover his face. His mood was souring a bit.

"Never fucking asked you to carry me. Never asked for you to take me here in the first place." George grits out, not sure if he wanted to struggle out of Dreams grasp. He could definitely walk on his own, he would just be, a little unbalanced. Dream could just leave him at the stairs of the apartment and leave..

George could hear him mutter something around the lines of ' _asshole_ ' but ignored it. He closed his eyes again and pressed them against Dream's shoulder, too tired to keep them open. 

"I still don't know which apartment is yours.." Dream mumbles, bouncing him higher up on his waist after he slipped down a bit. He huffed behind Dreams head, knowing that his breath wouldn't be the most pleasurable thing to smell in that moment.

"Stickers.." George mumbled, not bothering to actually help him. Dream paused before walking again, passing by every single apartment until he found one with stickers covering the door and window.

"Uh.." He started again, causing George to finally get tired of him. George let himself go limp and slid down Dream's body, dropping onto the floor. He looked up at Dreams confused face, simply rolling his eyes before tossing the welcome mat to the side and tugging the key from under it. It was taped against the bottom of the mat so if someone wanted to rob him there was the slightest chance they would check the ground rather than the mat itself.

He stumbles back up, leaning himself against the wall so he wouldn't collapse, and stuck the key in, taking a while to unlock it due to his weak hands. When the door opens he stumbles in, attempting to shut the door in Dreams face so he can collapse on the couch and magically wake up to find out that it was just a random person who brought him home.

Instead, the door was harshly kicked back open before he could get it shut, and George was being dragged through his own apartment.

He notices Dream's eyes wandering around the apartment, in search of something. The eyes land on his moldy couch, eyes widening after seeing the state it was in. Dream slowly walks around, passing by the kitchen, a gasp leaving his lips. George looks up to see the mess he left, shattered beer bottles and trash covering the floor.

Dream visibly shakes his head, and starts opening a door, the bathroom. It seems to be what he was looking for seeing as he was dragged inside of it.

He's tossed in front of the toilet, extremely confused. That is, until he's getting fingers _shoved_ down his throat. His eyes widen and he gags around them, desperately grabbing at Dreams wrists. What was he doing?! Trying to make him throw up? Why the fuck is he doing that? Everything that's in him has already gone through his system, this was pointless!

He stares down into the bowl, the smell of the toilet starting to make him gag, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His eyes water and he can feel bile rise up in his throat, puke coming up in suit. Dream hastily removed his fingers when he noticed George heaving, and rubbed his back soothingly when he started throwing up into the toilet. 

His throat burned and his eyes were streaming, all of his insides coming out and into the toilet. Sobbing and dry heaving after it's all out. He takes shaky breaths, feeling completely limp, lifeless. He kept gagging even though he knew nothing else would come up, not focusing on what was happening around him.

Looking up, George sees the shadow behind him start to move and he flinches and tenses up, before he finally feels arms wrap around his back and and behind his knees.

Dream picks up George again and lays him into the bathtub, all the gentleness from earlier a bit dissipated from their short lived argument they had earlier and the fact that Dream forced his fingers down his throat. George wearily looks up at Dream, that asshole, is he ever gonna take the stupid mask off? 

Dream closes the lid and flushes the toilet, twice just to be safe, before turning back to George. His eyes wander over George's body, so small, shivering, regret filling Dreams features. He shakes his head before reaching over to where he assumed he could turn the water on.

A loud streak erupts from Georges throat when his shower head is suddenly spurting _freezing_ cold water at him, suddenly wide awake. He stares at Dream flabbergasted, Dream looking a bit embarrassed about what just happened.

"I don't know how your.. shower works." He says awkwardly, looking away from him and at the dirty wall.

George doesn't make an effort to help, getting angrier by the minute. Dream kidnaps him from the party, drives him home and forces himself inside, and got George soaked by cold water. He could always call the cops on him but.. that wouldn't be a good look for him either. He settles for staring down at his clothes, stuck to his skin uncomfortably.

Dream struggles a bit before finally figuring out how to fill up the tub, having to push George around to make sure the water stays inside.

The bathtub is filled a third of the way up, and George is still _completely_ clothed. He didn't look up once, he didn't wanna see Dream. Didn't want reality to finally hit him completely. He has no clue how much time has passed, has no clue whether or not the drugs were supposed to wear off yet. Would they ever? He's heard that it could last months. Maybe it was a myth though.

What if he never becomes sober again? Would it be a good feeling? Constantly having an out of body experience? He wasn't sure, he didn't know what he wanted. Has he ever?

He watches through the reflection of the water as Dream poured water into his hair, wetting it thoroughly, before seeing him just stare at his 3-in-one soap. What's wrong with that? Don't most guys use that? He frowns at the water, watching water ripple from each movement that's made.

Dream starts to wash his hair, scrubbing it roughly, going in every nook and cranny, making sure his hair was properly washed. Dream stops and removes his hands suddenly, pulling them away to grip the bathtub.

"George I.." Dream starts, George peaking towards the man. His shoulders were slumped and his head was faced down at the floor. It was a depressing sight. 

"How did this happen.. when did it start?" He pauses and looks at George before continuing, "-was it because of me?" Dream asks. 

George was so lost, how was he supposed to answer that? _Hm, well, yes and no! Honestly, I'm repressing the real reason why I'm this way, and forcing myself to forget about it, and put the blame on you! Coincidentally, I have managed to fall in love with you, when I know for sure you don't feel the same!_

Right..?

He had no clue what to say, the entirety of everything that happened was messing with his head, and his throat still burned from him throwing up earlier. He settled for rolling his eyes and looking away, in too much pain to talk.

"Kind of ironic how Tommy is always talking about drugs, yet I have no clue what they do or what they causes, huh?" He grimaced out a smile, reaching his hand into the tub and tugging Georges hands that were lodged between his thigh and calf. He squeezed them tightly, cradling them against his face.

George wasn't sure what expression he had at that moment, but it was probably a poker face, he was getting weaker the longer he spent soaking. Suds revealed themselves and they streamed down his hair and shoulder, back into the water.

Dream didn't remove his hands, if anything squeezing them tighter while rubbing circles into his palm. His expression was so pained, and all George wanted to do was to wipe it right off. To redo this whole thing, to have his first memory of meeting Dream being a happy one. With bright smiles and good energy.

"I don't know if saying this will be pointless, if you'll forget everything I say once you sober up," Dream pauses and looks into George's eyes, "..but even if you do, I swear to tell you a million times again. To prove it to you for the rest of your life, _our_ lives. If you let me. If you let me in." He pauses.

"It doesn't have to be now. It doesn't have to be soon. I don't care how long it takes for you to fully trust me. To believe what comes out my mouth. Because I promise you, I will stay with you through thick and thin, no matter the circumstances. No matter how long it takes."

George just stared at him, too tired to react, but his heart was pounding harshly in his chest, he was sure Dream could hear it.

"I love you." Dream hushes out. 

"It's so cliche the way my heart pounds just looking at you. The fact that I can be in front of you right now is beyond my imagination. The fact that I can hold your hand right now, that I can bathe you, tell you I _love_ you. When I imagined first meeting you, god this is so stupid, I just.. imagined it was like you see in the movies. Maybe I would be surprising you, or you surprising me, but I just knew one thing. I wanted it to be you running and jumping into my arms. I wanted to hug you just as hard, spin you around before letting your feet finally touch the ground and _god_. I would kiss you right there in front of everyone. Our fans, our friends, fucking strangers. I would claim your lips right there, no matter what anyone thought. Show the world who you belonged to, who I belonged to." He pauses once again to catch his breath, face either red from the lack of air or what he was saying. 

"Stupid huh?"

Dream gazes in George's eyes, noticing the flush that covered George's skin.

"But look where we are now.. fans turning against you. Against me. Hearing you say.. that you were gonna do drugs to avoid what happened. It was so scary. My heart dropped. I didn't even think before calling your _stupid_ parents to ask where you lived. I was so set on finding you. I probably looked stupid rushing into the airport with nothing but myself and a wallet. But I got lucky. There was a flight happening in 30 minutes and I managed to catch it. I was shaking the whole plane ride, only you were on my mind. It was only when I got to your complex that I realized that I couldn't get in."

His eyes dropped back down, George just watched, watched as Dream recollected all that just happened.

"So I called you while driving around, just in case you weren't actually there. I thought I got myself lost and you weren't answering so.." Dream catches George somewhat scoffing, it finally hits him that George isn't talking because of a sore throat.

"But you did answer. I have _no_ clue how I managed to be so near where you were. But I still heard the same music that was playing on the call, so I just went for it and.." Dream waves his hand around the room, gesturing to what situation they were in now.

"Here we are.." George could feel himself getting sick remembering all of today's events, and yesterdays, and just _everything_. 

Dream bit his lip and watched as a confused and intoxicated George tried to process this whole conversation.

George looks back at Dream when he feels lips being pressed against his hands. He watches bewildered as Dream peppers kisses against it, interlocking their hands before looking back up at him.

"You probably still wont believe me after all that, a mistake on your part, but I meant everything I said. I will be with you until you believe me, and everyday after."

Dream smiles at him, a rusted smile, before washing off all the spots that weren't covered by his clothes. George knew it wasn't his truly happy smile, but his stomach filled with butterflies nonetheless. He looks around and spots a towel, but freezes when he sees how wrinkled and dirty it is. Instead, he stands up and opens up the cabinet above his toilet and gets a hand towel to dry off his hands and arms.

George freezes when another kiss is placed onto his hair, staring up with a scowl and flushed cheeks.

"I'm gonna go into your room and get you new clothes, wash the rest of your body in the meantime, alright?" Dream says, hand already on the doorknob. George opens his mouth to try and refuse. Say he doesn't have to do a thing Dream says. That his words meant nothing. But he would be lying to himself. So he shuts his mouth and nods slightly, before attempting to get the wet clothes off. An impossible task.  
___

George was brought back to the airport, silent throughout the whole process of returning the car and getting through security. It was awkward due to the looks he got, Dream did his best to wash him, but all of George's clothes smelled _loud_. The smell of cannabis tainting the air around them.

Yet Dream didn't let go of his hand once unless necessary. It _definitely_ doesn't fail to make George's ears redden.

Problem is, his acid trip was far from being over. He knew little about it, yet he knew that this could commonly happen. This time though, it did not feel like rainbows and butterflies. Rather him not being able to walk straight unless being helped by Dream, and trying to differentiate his hallucinations from reality.

They finally make it to where they were supposed to wait for the plane, taking a seat farthest from everyone there. George stares down at his feet, something he's been doing a lot lately, trying not to go insane. Everything around him was spinning and colorful, his vision flashing from bright to dark. He _hated_ it.

The seat felt uncomfortable and uneven causing him to wriggle around in an attempt to feel comfortable. Not it supplying his boredom, but also distracting him from actually processing all of today's events. What he summed it all into was he got high, manipulated by Dream into following him around, and is now in an airport.

He was twitching and flinching and every noise he heard, shaking from either fear or the cold air. Dream tried multiple times to comfort him to no avail, ending up being pushed away by a hyperventilating George. He started to overthink about nothing at all, wanting nothing but to run out of the airport and get some fresh air.

He was scared too, he wasn't sober, and being brought to an entirely different country. He's sure something like this isn't legal, but he's too far deep to say anything. Dream already bought tickets to get him and bring him to America and the guilt of leaving him was suddenly too overbearing to go through with.

Dream managed to slip a hand onto his back and rubbed circles into it, the heel of his foot tapping away at the floor. This probably looked weird to the people around him, and he noticed cops giving them side eyes of concern. Did they think Dream was kidnapping him or something? ' _You are getting kidnapped.._ ', the voice in his head said, a grunt leaving Georges throat.

He lifts his head up to see what Dream packed for him after realizing he didn't exactly pay attention to what was packed for him. There was a singular suitcase. Everything that Dream deemed important fit into one suitcase. Maybe he was planning on bringing George back to London once he's sober again?

Tears prick George's eyes when it hits him. This is what he's worth, this is what his whole life has done for him. Being dragged to a place he doesn't know with a simple suitcase full of clothes. His computers and games left behind, his unnecessary amount of shoes he doesn't wear, his life.

This is what Dream chose out of everything he worked for.

George let out pathetic little whimpers and sniffs, trying not to full on sob in the middle of an airport. Everything around him was swirling and he felt like he was worth nothing. Absolutely nothing. Like he was raised and continued to grow for no reason whatsoever. Why was he here anyways? Here and _alive_.

His thoughts were brought to a halt when he was being tugged up to stand, and his head being shoved into the crook of Dream's neck. He freezes and stops breathing, waiting for Dream to say something. He was about to shove him off when he heard their flight being called on the speakers, causing Dream to pull away. He was definitely going insane.

His hand is gripped tight once again as they make their way to get onto the plane. Dream hands the tickets over to the gate agent before they awkwardly pass people who scrunched up their noses from the smell, George glaring at them in response. The duo clumsily walked through the aisle until they came across their seats, George being sat down while Dream put the suitcase in the overhead.

George fiddled with his fingers, embarrassed about how he just cried, and scared about how he was on a plane at that moment.

But Dream was right there.

Dream gripped his hand and pulled Georges head onto his shoulder, mumbling something about sleeping and how it would be a long flight, so he did.

Surprisingly, it was the best sleep he's had yet.

__

It was also, the _shortest_ amount of time he's slept.

He woke up a couple times every hour, not tired enough to sleep. He managed to get through the 10 hour flight, not bothering to look at his surroundings since all he wanted to do was get out of the uncomfortable seat. There was so one else seated next to them so George was able to sprawl out a bit, helping the slightest bit.

When they get off the plane they don't stop walking once, only having security and explaining why they took the flight they did. They eventually were able to call a taxi over, and groggily stumbled into it. The car ride was silent for the most part, a pop station playing lightly on the radio. It was night time in America, yet the streets were so bright and lively, like night time was a foreign concept to them.

The driver attempts to start conversation a couple times, Dream not even trying to be discrete when he shut all of the attempts down. The driver awkwardly coughed in response, the silence becoming more awkward each time it happened.

They eventually make it to Dream's home, an entire house to himself? George knew he was reeling in cash but he didn't think Dream would casually use it to buy an entire house..

Dream pays the driver and tips, opening Georges door and offering his hand to help him get up. George smacks the hand offered and clambers out, having another one of his mood swings. Maybe if he's mean to Dream he'll give up and just send George back. He'll realize that George really isn't all that, that he wasted his time and money, and pretend it never happened.

But Dream just huffed and smiled, bitter and sadness behind it, a broken smile.

They walked up his driveway, and George watched as he unlocked the front door and stepped in after him, eyes wandering around. It was extremely clean compared to his apartment, some dirty clothes tossed around randomly and a messy drawer open next to the tv. Dream walks ahead of him in silence and George follows, before they finally make it to his bedroom.

"You can sit down or uh, whatever makes you comfortable. I'll get out my air mattress." Dream stutters out, acting nervous all of a sudden.

George ignores him, blandly staring at the floor and waiting for Dream to leave the room before letting himself look around. He saw Dream's gaming setup, photos of himself and his family covering the walls, a dirty clothes basket in the corner of the room with clothes toppling over and to the side.

He squints at the photos, the room too dark to see anything. He would get up to turn the light switch up to light up the room, but he was finally feeling sleepy enough to actually get a good night's rest. His eyes getting droopier by the second, the darkness slowly consuming him. He hears a rustling from the door, the only thing keeping him from falling asleep, and slowly looks up.

Dreams wrestling the mattress in, confused on why he didn't just bring the mattress into his room before putting air inside of it. He rolls his eyes before lazily hugging one side of the mattress and bringing it down with him. He sighs and looks back up at the man, and he cant stop his mouth from dropping,

Ethereal.

Dashing was downplaying how beautiful Dream looked.

He must have attempted to fix his hair a bit before coming in, George not sure why he would even bother if they were about to go to sleep. But that's not the main event, main attraction, not what he was focusing on.

His mask was off.

He looked like what he had pictured greek gods to look like. Not only his mask, but hoodie taken off. His arms weren't weak and scrawny like Georges were. If anything, having a bit of muscle on them. He was wearing a white wife beater top, and changed into sweatpants. Dream noticeably flushes when he sees George admire him.

His jawline was sharp, a bit of fat to his cheeks managing to make it look even better. His hair complimented his head shape completely, showing off his facial features. Like his puffy red lips that had been obviously chewed on the whole day. His eyelashes were long and still had cheekbones even if his face had a little weight to it.

George felt his fingers twitch, weirdly wanting to reach out to the man. His eyes stay on him and obviously looks him up and down, focusing on his face the most. _If he looks this attractive, then why the hell is he hiding it?_ Dream stares right back at him, face red enough to see with the lights off, before his phone starts ringing.

They both flinched and felt equally embarrassed, George feeling like he was caught doing something wrong. His eyes drop down to the bed before he awkwardly turns away, not wanting to look at him in that moment. He crawls on top of the bed, not even bothering to ask for a blanket before he's starting to try and sleep. His heart was racing a mile a minute yet he was still able to get drowsy.

He barely feels a blanket being laid over him, barely hears Dream whisper out a goodnight, before he's fast asleep.

__

_Dear Diary,_

_Well, this is new I guess. Ive never used a diary before but apparently its good for stress so.. Today I did something ~~very~~ immature. I did it in a rush so this'll sound dumb.. I dragged George back home with me? yiiiiiiiiiiikes.. I dont know why, I just got so scared out of no where yk? If someone you love sounds like they're on the verge of killing themselves and then says that they're gonna do **DRUGS** of course you would be scared! I have no clue why he's so scared, why he's so insecure, why he wont believe me, or trust me but what I do know is I will do anything I can to prove myself to him. so what if I took advantage of him not being sober to bring him here?! if I hadn't.. who knows what couldve happened to him.. I'm gonna protect him if its the last thing I do. ill shower him with so much love he has no choice but to accept it! I swear it! I'm sure this will be a rough journey, and I know I shoudn't get my hopes up to early on. but being able to just turn over on my bed and see **him** there what else could I do? its just.. ___

____

_god.. I love him,_

____

_Clay_

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thinking about putting this on wattpad too, what do you guys think? 
> 
> (also yes dream had his mask on every time he kissed Georges head)


	5. Just My Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not sure where he is, but George is gonna wish he stayed in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stuffs was going on in my life so it took longer sorry  
> -(implied) manipulation/grooming  
> -(implied) parental mental/physical abuse  
> \- cursed text 
> 
> (ex: h̷̛̤̞̃̽̅̚ȇ̴̬͍̦̜̍̕͝l̶̛̘̼̣͗́̃̾̏l̸̨̧̦̝̘̳͎͘o̵̢̺̻̟̞̗͊̅̚̕)

Everything was white.

The room, the clothes on his body, the staircase he barely noticed due to the shadows showing their depth. He wasn't sure where he was, were he was going, or where he was supposed to be. He didn't know if this was a dream or not, or if it was simply his brain playing tricks on him. What even is a dream? Who was.. _he_?

He grips his shirt, looking down at it, pure white. His pants were pure white, his shoes were pure white, everything around him was lifeless. 

He wasn't sure if his vision was blurred or perfectly clear since everything blurred together, the silence was creepily loud, he couldn't even hear his own voice. He was scared.

He takes a step back, then another step back, and soon enough he's running. He didn't know when the room would end, where it begun, if it was a room in the first place, or wether or not it was simply empty space. An endless white void to be left in till he goes insane. He ends up slipping on his white shoelaces, not even realizing that they came undone.

His breath gets caught as he falls backwards, but he cant tell when he's stopped falling. Everything blended together, and it appeared to him ask if he would simply _never_ stop falling. He attempts to get up, unbalanced and unnerved, before completely sitting up. So he's already fallen, thats a start.

He slowly makes his way throughout the void, eyes wandering before settling on the staircase before. He slowly walks towards it, and noticed a shadow, the shape of something not human, nor anything he's ever seen before. Its gone as fast as it came, almost as if it was only a figment of his imagination.

Maybe he had already started going insane.

He shakes his head and prepares to start walking down but notices something. The shadow, _his_ shadow, didn't look like.. him. It could've been the angle, could've been the lighting, the shadow merely there to add life to the void. But something in his gut told him that it wasn't his shadow.

Then who was it?

He squeezes his eyes shut before looking at the shadow one more time, deciding it wouldn't be smart to dwell on it. He descends down the white staircase, watching his footing as he walked down to make sure he wouldn't miss a step. Super after step, breath after breath, one leg after the other. A pattern.

He doesn't know how much time he's spent walking, but he doesn't get tired once. If this staircase was endless, he would never find out. Weirdly enough, he has a sense that this void doesn't have time. Time being created as if it was a distraction, to keep you from something, to keep everyone from seeing reality.

The farther down he walks the more insane he feels, suddenly running down the stairs at full speed. A laugh leaves his throat when realizing he hasn't lost his footing once. The staircase goes down in circles, and so does he. Running around in circles, circles, circles, circles, circles. Until he finally stops.

He just stops, his breath wasn't taken away by the trek, his clothes still in tact. He hadn't broke a sweat the entire journey. He peers down the staircase, and he's sure he's gone insane.

Isn't that.. color?

He stares down at the color, unsure if it was just his mind playing games on him. Was he supposed to walk down to whatever he was seeing? Is it a trap, the fact that he even went down the stairs was the wrong choice? But even if it is, its still something new. Something that will help him not go insane.

He runs down the staircase, eyes widened in excitement, fast and clumsy. It seems likes he's almost there to feeling like he's made no progress whatsoever. But he pushes through and continues going down the stairs, still full of energy. It takes him a second to process that there were only a couple flights before he finally reaches the color he saw. 

Going just as fast as before, he almost fell over himself from how fast he stopped moving. He lets his eyes adjust before finding out what he was looking at.

A dark bedroom.

Its familiar to him, as if he's seen it before. Photos covering a wall, a computer and pc in the corner of the room, a bed in the other. It seems so foreign yet reminds him of what he would think _home_ felt like. He steps off the staircase slowly, running his hand along the wall, looking around until he sees it. Theres someone laying on the bed.

A person. Someone he knows. Someone.. important to him? He can feel it, feel it in his bones.. feel it in his heart. He stares before bells ring in his head.

Finally, his first memory came back. Dream. He remembers Dream.

The lack of light casts a shadow over Dreams figure, blocking any feature of him other than the space he takes up on the bed. He's laying so still on his bed you would think Dream was sleeping, though the dull light from his phone says otherwise. He barely notices Dreams eyes flick up to stare straight at him.

His eyes widen and he's stumbling back again, falling flat on the floor. But dream doesn't look down once, eyes back on his phone, almost as if George wasn't there. Was he really, not there?

Does he not exist? Is he dead? Did he die? How did he die?

His mind is clogged with confusion, now only remembering dream. He stares down at his fallen figure before he realizes he still doesn't remember who _he_ is. He doesn't know himself.

He picks himself back up, edging closer towards the bed. His eyes travel to his phone, noticing that he was hovering over a contact with a goofy grin. He tries looking from the side of the bed, realizing how uncomfortable his position is before settling for sitting next to him.

The silence feels incredibly loud, and the lack of knowledge that he was currently sat next to dream caused his heart to pick up the pace and brain to malfunction. In a way, he felt like he was taking advantage of Dreams unknowing figure. He rustles around on the bed, trying to see if he can get his attention.

Nothing.

George attempts to touch Dream, his hand landing on his shoulder but not even a flinch comes from him. Like he was physically there, but not _there_. Like he weighed nothing, nor had any strength. He found out that much after tugging on Dreams arm to see if he could move him at all.

He pushes against Dreams face, kicks at his chest, pulls at his legs, nothing. So rather, he takes the time to admire him. The room was fairly dark so you couldn't see much, the lighting from his phone screen only lighting up his face and chest. George just assumes its night time at the moment.

Propping himself onto the bed, he lets his hand wander Dreams face, caressing his cheeks and rubbing his eyelashes. He doesn't actually affect Dream in any way, since the latter can't feel what he's doing, but it feels so _intimate_. Like a once in a life time opportunity.

He sits closer to him than he would if this was real life, and leans his head towards Dreams phone. He searches for what was on his phone screen, tongue poked out in concentration. It was George's contact, and he had apparently sent Dream a photo. Fear spiked in his veins, but he couldn't do anything to stop Dream from opening the message. He blushed from head to toe when he sees the photo of himself.

He had only looked at that photo once when he was trying to figure out what he sent Dream that dreadful day, and now he has to experience it from the other point of view. George isn't sure what to expect. Probably some disgust from Dreams end, maybe he simply didn't feel anything and just called him to tease him about it. Yet he didn't expect this.

Dreams eyes widened as they glazed over, jaw dropped in reaction to the photo he was looking at. He clicked on the photo to see all of it, hand running through his hair. Dream bit his lip and tilted his head back, a groan leaving his lips. George's eyes widen at the noise, jumping back and falling in front of Dreams figure on the bed. He brought his head back down towards the phone, lips bit sensually.

It was fucking hot. 

George slowly lifted himself up onto his knees, still sat in front of Dream. The man throws the blanket off of him, landing on George for a few seconds before flowing through him, a weird sight. He looks back at Dream and the sight is jaw dropping. He was wearing shorts, _no shirt_ , and was currently trying to cool himself off? After seeing George?

Dreams hand slowly travels down his leg, resting on his thigh, scarily close to his crotch.

George squeezed his thighs together as he watched the sight, waiting for him to do something else. His eyes traveled upwards as Dream brought his hand up to click something, freezing when he heard the noise coming from Dreams phone. It was the sound of a phone ringing.

Oh god.

He was tense, no longer matching the energy Dream was giving out. Only feeling fear as to knowing what that call would lead to. He hears himself pick up the phone and notices a smirk resting on Dreams face. He listened to George talk over the phone, hand rubbing his thigh as he breathed heavily into the mic.

George flinched when he spoke.

"Fuck.. I can hear your thinking through the phone."

It's starting.

He watches patiently as Dream listens to the other him talk to him on the phone, a bit shaky, but trying to hold himself together. George wasn't sure if he wanted to witness himself get rejected from another persons point of view, but he wasn't sure where else he could go.

"You happened, what did you think would happen when you sent me.. that."

George gasps loudly when Dreams hand lands right on top of his crotch, falling farther back onto the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling like he walked in on something he shouldn't have. He could hear his own gasp over the phone, embarrassment causing him to flush.

"Don't like it? Baby, I didn't just fucking like it."

It's deja vu how the George that Dream was talking to reacted the same as how he's reacting now, holding back a whimper. Well, some things never change. George prepares himself when he sees Dreams lips separate to say something else, eyes hazy.

"Well my opinion is that you shouldn't send that to anyone else," 

George stays silent. 

"..or you'll have them hot and bothered wanting to leave bruises all over your pretty white skin."

He should feel overjoyed over having the chance to hear it again, over the moon that he got to see his face as he said it. But he wasn't. His chest hurt so badly he thought he was going to die, he never wished for something to make him feel numb more than he did right that second.

He waited and watched to see Dreams face morph into disgust after hanging up, regret, _something_. But instead he was met with the shrill sound of a doorbell ringing, and Dream muttering a "Someones here.. we'll continue this later..". George felt even more sick as he heard the words fall from his mouth.

Was that what Dream tried to tell him that day? Where everything went down? When he told George "I love you."?

Dream stumbled off the bed and leaves George following in suit, but when Dream walks out the door he fades away and George is faces with the same set of stairs from earlier, only going deeper.

His eyes water as he continues to walk down, regret filling his heart and pain coursing throughout his body. Not from being hurt physically, but it hurts just as badly. He picks up the pace and continues down, not even bothering to check and see how close he was to another room. Just walking and walking.

A tear streams down his face as he lets out pitiful sobs, proceeding to run down the stairs just as he did before.

This time though, it feels like the stairs will never lead him somewhere, that they'll never end, that he was just going to have to continue walking until he couldn't walk anymore. Though with how he felt now, he could keep walking for ages. It never got darker as he continued down, never changed the shade of white it was.

Until he saw colors reflecting off the white glossy walls causing him to make a run for it.

What would it be this time?

He stumbles into a living room of a home, tv quietly playing in the background as light poured through the windows. Sunlight. He hasn't seen much of that in a while.

His eyes wander the room before settling on the figure hunched over the kitchen counter, pacing back and forth every couple of seconds. Dream was that figure, hand run through his hair as he pauses to speak into the phone talking to someone. George walks up slowly and makes his way towards the other side of the counter.

"I hate you I hate you so fucking much." He hears himself say over the phone, his brain trying to process how he was hearing himself talk while it was going on.

"I love you."

George flinches, having forgotten about what went down at that call. The tension was thick and the silence was loud, neither of them making a sound. George takes the time to walk up to Dreams still figure, seeing the fear in his eyes and pain in his face. Did George cause him to make that face?

"Love me?" He knows reaching for the phone is futile, but he still tries to end the call anyways. He reached for the phone and tried pressing on the end call button but it does nothing, tried turning the phone off but he really couldn't do anything. He was powerless.

"Like I'd believe that. Why're we even getting off track? We're supposed to be taking about how you almost ruined my career, yours might be coming down with mine!" George crumbles onto the floor with that, its what be believes after all. But if he has to see Dreams face even more upset than it is now, he wish he had said anything else.

He runs towards the tv and sits in front of it, trying to distract himself from the conversation he and Dream were having. He could hear Dreams voice yelling at the phone, his yelling in return. George trembled as he used his hands to block his ears, breaths labored and short causing him to hyperventilate.

George looks up at the tv and notices how just like in real life, theres an argument going on between two people. One with tears streaming down their face, one who seems like they would rather be anywhere else. He can't help but feel angry at the character.

_Don't make it so much harder for them, talk it out, let them in._

Maybe it's just him self inserting his inner thoughts onto them, what he wishes he had done when everything started.

He watches the uninterested one finally yell back and storm out of the room, leaving the crying actor left alone.

Lost, hurt, confused.

Is that how Dream felt?

He's not sure how long he spent rocking back and forth in front of the tv, squeaking when Dreams shadow approached him. He turns back to see Dream grabbing the remote and shutting the tv off, phone in the other hand. Their conversation hadn't ended yet. He shivers when he sees the look on Dreams face, the hair on his arms rising up.

"Then I'll buy a fucking ticket and go all the way there to make are you don't kill yourself and do the damn explanation." Dream growls.

George gawks as he watches Dream dirty the living room into what it looked like when George was brought home with him. The drawers by the couch being left open after Dream rummaged through it for his wallet and keys, clothes being tossed off his body and replaced with the same hoodie he saw him in for the first time.

He pushes himself off the ground hurriedly, eyes still blurred from the tears that had been constantly streaming down his face, and follows Dream as he goes about. He freezes a couple times when things get thrown _through_ him but eventually gets used to it.

Nearly slamming into the man, he freezes in his spot when Dream pauses. It silent other than their breathing, intertwined.

Dream looks back at the living room one last time before leaving the house, George could hear the car engine rumble before he snaps out of it and rushes out of the front door.

It's the fucking stairs again.

He jogs down them for the what? Hundredth time? He's not sure at this point, but he's getting used to it at least. Maybe this'll come to an end soon, he can only hope.

George tries to pull himself together when he finally makes it to the next room, his childhood bedroom.

It's filled with posters of old bands that he had forgotten about, a dirty bed, and clothes tossed in every corner of the room. He was a child after all, not caring about cleaning or chores.

"George, you need to stop making things up. Its just your imagination."

He freezes and turns, noticing his mom talking to someone at the bedroom door, and then sees himself walk through it after.

Him, just a 8 year old kid. 

A kid that shouldn't even have to say the words about to leave his mouth.

"I mean it! He treated me funny! Why won't you believe me?!"

George's mouth drops at the scene, still frozen as the kid version of him walks right through his body. He's short and thin, almost as if he was just a taller version of himself as a kid.

His moms sighs and looks him up and down, her eyes filled with pity.. or annoyance. He could never tell what she was thinking, could never tell what she was going to do.

"Don't say things like that anymore George." She says tiredly, rubbing a hand down her face.

"What if someone really believes you? It could get him in trouble!" She barked, no longer holding back her anger, her eyes looked like they glowed red kid him.

"A- Am not! He really di-" The slap echoes throughout the now silent room, both of them frozen. George was holding a hand to his face while his mother held her hand in the air for a minute. She finally dropped it onto his should and said, "George, you know I dont like hurting you. I _love_ you. You're my one and only son."

She breathes heavily through her nose before continuing.

"You are going to go to his house later to apologize and say you were making things up because you were bored, okay?" She asks, more like states, before pulling him back up and dragging him out of his room.

George hesitates after watching that scene, but before he knows it he's running as fast as he can, at this point he doesn't care if he does end up falling down them. At least he wouldn't have to continue doing this over and over. He would either wake up or die, and both seemed like a win win situation at the moment.

It feels like longer than usual, especially with the running, but he eventually makes it to a room.

His heart drops.

He doesn't take a step off the staircase yet, too scared to move at all really. He turns back slowly, wanting to go back up the staircase, wanting to be anywhere but at this room. But he stops when he notices the shadow on the steps. Last time he checked- he was alone this entire time.

He steps into the room regretfully, his fear of what awaited him if he went back up stronger than his fear of what the room was.

His older neighbors bedroom.

George shivers as he walks deeper into the room, letting out a breath of relief over the fact that no one else was in the room. He walks around slowly and notices how everything was in place. Just like they were back then- just how he _thought_ it looked back then. He was never in his neighbors room, how would he know..

He looks around at everything, it was so still, so quiet.

He remembers it being much, much louder.

George notices the porn magazines hidden under the bed, he notices the lock on the closet door..

He notices the rope hanging off the bed frame, just like it always was.

George flicks his eyes up and walks towards the bookshelf to find a box, a _very_ out of place box. When he reaches for it, thats when he notices.. he can touch it. His shakily brings his other hand up to lift it off the shelf and bring it over to the desk.

He's honestly not sure what he should do. He can touch it, move it, it has to mean _something_.

George doesn't want it to mean something. Its the last thing he want's.

He squeezes his hands before reaching towards the box, pretending like he didn't notice how his hands shook. George took a breath before feeling bile rise up in his throat at the corner of a polaroid. The lid wasn't all the way off, but he could still see the corners and sides of the polaroids and photos that filled the box.

It was just his childhood imagination. It didn't actually happen. He's okay.. he's okay.

He takes the lid completely off and nearly pukes at the photos he's seeing. It's him, it's what happened every time he went over, it happened.. it happened.

"No it didn't George.. your parents said it didn't.. it didn't happen.." He repeats over and over, hand pulling at his hair as he hyperventilates. He drops down onto the floor and kicks himself away from the box, tears filling his eyes.

He froze when he noticed a shadow looming over him, far too large to be his own. Georges heart raced as he turned and when he finally saw the shadow in its entirety, it was no longer his shadow. It was someone he had forgotten long ago.

ẏ̴̟o̴̥͚̒̌û̸̟͈̚ ̴̳̓̈́n̴͕̞̔e̴͕͙̐̌v̷̘̇e̷͕͘ř̶̲̺̈́ ̸̳̍͜ḟ̵̨̣ŏ̷͖̘r̶͈̼̋g̸̛͎̍o̷̳͝ṫ̷͉̠ ̵̡̤̽͝m̶̪̟̀e̴̥̊̒.

He didn't remember much about the man, he didn't remember his face, his voice, anything.

y̶͕͓̏̏o̴̼͐́u̶͔͐̍ͅ ̴̹̰͋̊k̷̩͕̈n̷͎̉o̷͕͝w̴͔̅͂ ̵̢̨͊ȅ̷͙̻͊x̴̧̊̄à̵͎͉̏c̸̱̹̋t̵̫͆l̶̡͍̒y̷̫͗ ̶̓ͅh̷̛̦̽o̵͚͘w̶̢̲̄̈́ ̵̭͙͒̀I̵͎̞̓ ̸̤͆͝l̷͓̬̓̀o̶̗͇̽ó̷̥̙k̴̖̍̎.

No. George doesn't remember. Mostly because his parents told him he didn't. That he got it all wrong. George was just a child anyways, children always like taking things out of proportion. So he obviously made everything up. What he thought happened at the time was just a figment of his imagination.

ẙ̵̙̿o̵̕ͅu̸̜̪͝ ̶͒ͅk̸͇̲̅ṅ̸̗o̴̦̲͋͝w̶̛̯͝ ̴͙̺͗ë̸̮̫́̀ẍ̴̭̰́͋â̵̰̤͝c̷̦̕ţ̵̼̎̔l̷̩͉͆̏y̸͉͂ ̸̖̥̎̆ẉ̷͈͝h̷̞̅̚a̴͓̕t̸̜̖͒̇ ̸͚̽͊h̴̖͗ȁ̶̻p̵̠͝p̷͎̜̏ę̶͋̈́ṋ̵̈̋ȩ̵͐͒d̸̝̭̂.

He doesn't remember what the man ever said to him.

ÿ̷̢̟́͠ǒ̴͎u̵̪̔̈ ̶͕̪̏̈́k̴̰̝͌͝ń̷̺͙͆ò̸̗͛ẘ̸͈̓ ̶̯͒̒e̸͇̐x̸͚̀͛a̸̼͐ͅc̴̱̦͊ẗ̵̼ḽ̶̼́ỳ̴̡̦̀ ̴̰͉͋w̶̫̍h̸̘̱̓a̷̙̫͌͘t̵̫̃͐ ̴͓̈́I̸͎͓̋ ̷̗̰͂s̷͍̽a̷̦̮͂i̵̘͕̾d̷̥̃̊.

He doesn't remember how the man treated him.

ẏ̶̰̾ō̷̞u̷͚͝ ̸̧̱̇̈́k̴͓̚ǹ̵͔̚o̵̹̘͌̌w̸̋͊ͅ ̷̟͐̀e̶̡͑̎x̷̜̊̈́a̵͖͂c̷̲̬̏t̸͉̫̏̄ļ̶̦͝y̷̱̒͊ ̷̦̖̈́̆ḧ̵̯o̸̞͆ẃ̷͙ ̵̩͆͆I̵̛͖͜ ̷͓̳͝t̶̟̕r̸͇̺͆̽e̶̢͇͌ǎ̸̠̭ţ̸͍̓͛é̷͇̅ḑ̷̮̍͝ ̴̱̐̈́ỵ̵̂ȯ̴̞̇u̵̜̿̆.

He doesn't remember how the man touched his body.

y̸̤̆̒o̶̳̽͋u̶͙̾̊ ̸̣̈́͐k̸̪̇̕͜n̸̡̨̑ö̸̪̒ẃ̷̢̥̕ ̴̪͗é̴̳̺̉x̵͎͚̏ạ̴̛̹̎c̴̜͊̋t̵͙̕ḽ̷̛͘ỳ̶͍ ̷̘͚̎̈́h̷̨͙̀ő̵̜̜w̴̫̝̃ ̷͍͊Į̴̥̒̉ ̷̱̈́h̷͖̫̒̔ẻ̸̺̌ḽ̵́̄d̸͚̒ ̷̭̑y̷̼̽ȏ̸̟͌ũ̸̢̘̓.

His parents already told him that he made it all up, that he was lying. They beat it into his head, engraved it onto his body. He was wrong, he was just being an immature child, he knows that much.

So why was seeing the shadow of a man he once knew making him shake with so much fear? Why did the shadow seem as if it was looming over him the more he backed away? Why did he feel trapped? If nothing happened, if he made it all up, why did he feel so scared?

He heard hundreds of whispers clog his ears, eyes blurred and burning from the brightness of the light suddenly dimming as the shadow blocked his vision.

"Please stop.." He whispered out to the darkness, to the shadow, to the void.

It's a phrase he had to use a lot as a kid, his words falling on deaf ears, just like they did when he was a kid. His heart beat out of his chest as he sobbed against the darkness covered floor, the shadow wrapping him like a blanket. It squeezed him tight and took his breath from him. He felt lightheaded from the lack of air.

There was no one to save him, no one to pick him up and bring him back to the light. There was no one to tell him that he could cry, that he saw it right, that they would protect them from now on. He didn't have that.

Not then.

Not now.

Maybe he should just let the shadow eat him up, let the darkness consume him..

"George."

His eyes fluttered back open, the shadow slowly releasing him.

"George!"

Was someone.. calling him? Was someone.. there for him?

The shadow disappeared, he could breathe, and the light was blinding him. Until he opened them once again.

"Dream..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm praying at least one of you guys noticed how I used he/him to refer to George when he didnt remember who he was, and used George for when he did :00
> 
> also! if you see that this gets updated but there’s no new chapter, it’s cause i went back and edited some things! i don’t beta read

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or follow my twitter!
> 
> [ Here!](https://twitter.com/forestydeku)


End file.
